Wrapped in Silver
Summary: Nesta gets sick on Solstice and pretends with all her might that she's not, family one-shot ft Caring Cassian and sick-emotional Nesta, Fic Request
The lights gleamed from storefront windows. Small stars lit above tabletops, shining on grins so wide she couldn't help but do the same.
Nesta looked through the window of a restaurant she passed, her own image staring back at her. Saw her flushed face and red nose kiss each person's cheek at the dinner table, long and ascending. Watched them pass the food to her and her to them, never doubting where she belonged.
She walked as her gaze lingered, trailing her fingers along that family's love. The image of little boys and girls sitting between parents, uncles, and aunts made her wish. Loved. All of them.
Nesta imagined herself surrounded by a chorus of conversations. The fire from the kitchens warming her body better than any coat.
She wouldn't have noticed her in the window either, if she was as cared for as they were.
Nesta turned to look back at the Sidra. The water frozen and immovable. Nesta watched as people skated on top of it, dancing with winter, itself. Captured in snowflakes and song. She wondered if it would feel like that, as if she were walking on water.
Another day when the city looked like this, dazzling and bright, maybe Cassian could take her. Nesta could almost see him leading her onto the ice. She'd squeeze his hand tightly—to keep her balance, she'd tell him. He'd smirk because he'd know it was a lie. And maybe it would snow, just like today, and they'd buy hot chocolate, spicy and dolloped with whipped cream, and take a walk along the bridge lit up and glowing.
She knew why they loved this place, knew why they protected it like treasure. The streets of Velaris were magical. Greens and golds and silver blues dancing with pale snow. She let her palms capture the waltz of snowflakes, the intricate patterns sitting on the dark fabric of her smell of bread and cinnamon wafted through half-open doorways. The frost nipped at her face. But the sounds, the smells, the sights made her feel alive.
People walked hand in hand along the cobblestoned streets, and children laughed as they played in the snow. It hadn't stopped snowing, since this morning, when Nesta swung a bag over her shoulder and perused each storefront with an intriguing eye.
Nesta took it all in, breathing the fresh winter air, almost walked right past the store tucked into the corner.
It always did look smaller on the outside, than what she found on the inside. The red brick welcoming her, even as her stomach churned. The doorbell jingled as her gaze trailing along the front sign.
Maven's & Mable's was a mess.
When Nesta had entered a few weeks back, she'd thought she saw more dust than things, more empty cloth than the furniture it covered. At first, she'd been spectacle, had looked at the store with disdain and a heavy need for a broom. She chided herself for being so snobby, even now.
Maven waved her over as she entered, bumping her hip into one of the tables. He was a curious sort of male, collecting everything and anything, though she could hardly tell in the mess. He owned the shop with his wife, Mable. Had owned it as long as Velaris had been marked and shielded. She tried to maintain her smile in her grimace.
"Hello, Miss Archeron. What can I do for you today?" He asked pleasantly, a chipper step to his voice Nesta had yet to master. She couldn't help but dance on her toes.
"Well…" She tapped her fingers on the counter, heard the click of her nails along the glass. "I hoped the shipment came today."
He pushed his glasses closer to his face, and the look her gave her made her apprehensive. "Ah."
He walked to the back, the shelves in such disarray she wondered how he found anything in them. It didn't stop him though, from coming back with a smile and a box in his hands.
"I think they can all be accounted for."
His grin was wide, as he set it on the counter, and opened the lid.
They were beautiful. Shimmering golds, metallic silvers, sands, and blues. Such pretty blues, Nesta could imagine the lands the paints came from, with seas so bright they could only be captured by color and a skilled artists hands.
She was lucky she knew such a fine artist.
Nesta shut the lid tightly, gently setting the worn box in her bag. Nothing some wrapping couldn't fix. She remembered passing a stand with such pretty silver ones. Maven simply nodded at the grateful look she gave him.
"A gift for our High lady, I presume. I hear her paintings could rival any of our most skilled." Nesta wondered how Feyre would feel about that comment. She almost imagined the way she'd roll her eyes and sweep it under the rug. Her sister never was the prideful sort.
"Yes, and you're shop was the only one who could get them here on time…" She shook her head, at her sudden jitters. "This year has to be perfect."
He merely smiled gently at her, like Nesta thought a grandfather might do, doting on his granddaughter. He had told her he had three of them. "I'm sure it will be."
She bid the male farewell and emphatic thanks, rushed to ask him to wish his wife well. The door bells rang sweetly, as the winter wind kissed her cheeks. She was by no means finished.
Nesta would spend the rest of the week finding every gift, dressing them in pretty paper, with as much as much Solstice cheer as she could drum up from her body. She'd be worried about everything else after each present was sitting beneath the tree. Not a minute before.
This year was going to be perfect.
For them and for her.
The townhouse was warm as she gathered the tinsel and wrapped it around the banister, directly parallel to the trail of red ribbon. Nesta had checked—four times.
The rest of the house looked just like it, a present all tied and waiting. All they were missing was the tree. Cassian, Feyre, Mor and Rhysand had volunteered excitedly. Nesta staying behind to help Elain with baking, in part because Cassian insisted and partially because Elain had looked at her so excitedly at spending time with her.
With a soft kiss to her forehead, Cassian promised to be back later in the evening. It was the right decision in the end, since the prospect of traversing through the forest only seemed to make her tired.
She wiped at her forehead, blowing the bangs from her face. The staircase wound down into the living room, and though Feyre decorated the townhouse to seem more homelier, the staircase yelled its opulence.
Nesta had only finished half of the railings by the time lunch was ready. She blamed it on her meticulousness, none of it seeming exactly right until it was set flawlessly. Though, the idea of climbing up the stairs again to finish the rest made her want to hold onto the rail and crumble into a ball at the bottom.
She did just that, crouching low, touching the red with her fingertips.
"Nesta, do you want to take a break?" Nuala asked. Nesta turned to face her, as she distantly heard the buzzer sound. She wondered how long it had been going off, before she noticed.
Cerridwen came down the stairs and stood next to her sister. She could hear Elain in the kitchen, the pans banging against granite countertops. She shook her head slightly in answer and tried to stand.
Nuala looked at her skeptically, as she hung to the railing. Nesta's gaze traveled to the half-finished decoration and wondered if they both thought ill of her for not having it done already… or Mother forbid, she did the whole thing wrong. Maybe, the tinsel wasn't supposed to go there, or the ribbon was the wrong color. Were there traditions? She didn't know.
It wasn't exactly her holiday, she didn't even want to do it. Nesta was trying for the sake of them. This was their day, anyways. What did she care about any of this?
It was just like the cookies she helped Elain with this morning. She forgot to set the timer, fell asleep before they were even finished. They were rushing to open the windows before she had even woke up, a smoke cloud hovering throughout the kitchen.
She sighed. What if she was doing this wrong?
Nesta was too afraid to ask. She could feel her temper flicker like a flame on a candle. Mother forbid she start crying.
"No—I… I'm okay. Is this okay?" They nodded to her enthusiastically, their eyes crinkling at her nervous ringing. Nesta pretended not to notice their cautious glances towards each other.
The look made something awful appear in the pit of her stomach, bury itself deep inside of her and jostle around. She was holding her mouth by the time the feeling sunk in.
Nesta just hoped they weren't acting this way because they didn't want her here.
Elain poked her head from behind the doorway, gesturing with her bright eyes to come. The sleeves of her dress pulled up to her forearms. The glances didn't stop as she made her way to the kitchen. Flour scattering on the counters like dusty snow.
She had taken off her coat this morning when they arrived, but the heat of the kitchen was sweltering. Nesta took off her sweater, thankful for the thin shirt she wore underneath and her planning skills. At least she wasn't totally out of it.
Elain laid out the sandwiches, the second batch of cookies cooling on the rack. "They should be here soon." She acknowledged, a sweet blush on her cheeks.
Nesta took a moment to look her over, glancing through the window of their lives. Her sister always did seem to fit in where ever she was placed, a perfect mold. A cookie cutter, though Nesta never judged her on that—just wished that it came as easy to her as it did Elain.
"Are you okay?"
Nesta blinked up at the question.
"What?"
Elain shook her head and gestured toward the table. "I called your name and you just looked at me sort of dazed."
"Oh." Nesta looked at the food and felt the feeling rise again. She grimaced as the thought of eating it, her appetite sitting drily on her tongue. Her eyes zeroed in on the trashcan near the stove. As long it was close, she'd be okay. She'd just have to do it discreetly, Elain had worked hard on this lunch for all of them.
"Nesta."
Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. She heard it over and over again, like she was drowning in distant memories and the words had plugged her ears. Only when she resurfaced did she realize she still hadn't moved to sit at the table. Elain grasping the back of the chair, her eyebrows furrowed, and her face withdrawn.
The room felt warmer, which had to be impossible since the window was still cracked open. She had barely made it to the table, when she grasped the counter top, coughing until she thought she could feel her lungs.
Elain held her as the air came and went, rubbing her back. Nesta felt Elain lay her hand on her forehead; her icy fingers cool against her flushed skin.
"Nesta, why don't you sit—"
Elain jumped at the booming footsteps. Nesta rushed to the door, as she heard them. Ran like she was a little girl again and her father had come back from one of his trips. She was always so excited to see him, jumping into his arms when affection didn't seem like a mask.
Her father would have loved this place—loved them all.
Cassian carried in the tree, Feyre cheering him on in the background. Her eyes were wide as she blinked back stars. Where a light ball of worry lifted, a gold gleaming bell settled in her chest. It rang at the sight of him, the song so lovely against the distant noise.
The tree may have been magnificent, deep green and full, but Cassian was something else to behold. His eyes carried a sheen of splendor, golden amber skies. Carefree and warm. His hair was pulled back into a beanie. Nesta wanted to take it off, run her hands through the dark curly locks, all ruffled and messy.
When he saw her, his face lit up. She couldn't imagine the Solstice tree with all its decorations could ever compare.
Nesta felt the cough come back up and swallowed it behind laughter. But nails scratched at her lungs, and she couldn't stop herself from hacking. Nesta grabbed the wall, leaning on it as her eyes dropped heavily.
She felt Cassian's hands on her skin, the tree lying on the floor, abandoned. She didn't even notice him dropping it.
Feyre craned her neck to see the fuss, still outside wearing her coat and gloves. The winter wind felt amazing, the door wide open so all she could see was winter's story. Nesta imagined the tales she would tell later about this day, when her sisters and her had finally gotten past their silent…war, became family with traditions and holidays and love.
Nesta pushed Cassian away, wanted to feel the touch of snow by herself, to be greeted by her sister's gleaming smile and her twinkling laughter.
As she moved, he followed; she wondered if she seemed odd to him that he looked at her like the others had. Cerridwen, Nuala, Elain, and now Cassian. She heard the laughter, though, outside where snow danced with wind and she wanted to feel it all. Wouldn't miss a part of it.
She unhooked her coat from the rack, ignored Cassian's soft grip on her arm, continuing forward. Winter called to her so lovingly.
"Sweetheart, I don't think—" She didn't hear the rest of his sentence, before she was swept up by flying snow.
Mor threw that one, and then Feyre back at her, and they laughed so sweetly. She wanted to laugh like them, wanted the snow to bloom along her skin like fresh poinsettias.
They gestured towards, Feyre grabbing her hand, running to the nearest mound—their castle, their lookout tower. Feyre grabbed the snow, packed it in between thick mittens, and threw cannonballs towards the enemy. At another pile where Mor and Rhys were surely hiding.
She felt the spirit burst in her, felt the ice whip across her face and sink into her knitted gloves, as she followed Feyre's wordless instructions. Feyre looked at her and laughed, smile so wide Nesta thought it might have been a dream. Where nothing bad had ever happened, and everything was perfect and beautiful and safe.
Nesta threw the snowballs until she could feel her arm tire and her body sink into to the ground. She watched as Feyre gestured for her to follow, quietly crawling to the center. A sneak attack, one she'd surely win. She'd protect all of them, like she so often did, like she had done since the very beginning.
Her eyes felt heavy, the snow falling on top of her, building snow castles where her body laid. Maybe her sister would always be the warrior, and Nesta would always be the one trapped in a tower she could never escape from.
Feyre laughed, wiping the snow off of her long coat. The whole ordeal didn't last long, but in that moment time didn't exist. Neither a high lady or a queen, she was just Feyre and an abundance of possibilities. She huffed out a breath, as Rhys put his arm around her. His body heat warming her more than the fire she could feel from the door.
Cassian pushed his way out, trampling his way past them. "Where's Nesta?"
Nesta? Nesta was there with her, and maybe that's why she had felt so alive. So, loved. That she was there with them, and it didn't feel forced or horrible. She was fighting alongside her, a bright sheen to her eyes Feyre had never seen before.
She hadn't even noticed Nesta was gone.
Feyre pushed Rhys away to run after him. The concern welling up inside of her. Cassian got to her first, she was lying next to their snow pile.
What Feyre didn't noticed then, she noticed now. Nesta's skin was red, she could see the sweat gathered at her sister's furrowed eyebrows. She turned towards Rhys, who looked as concerned as she felt.
"Call Madja! Now!"
Cassian picked Nesta up, her body limp in his arms, and Feyre saw the image again. The one she often saw in her nightmares, when the cauldron didn't let her sisters live, and they laid there dripping wet and lifeless.
Nesta was not lifeless, she could hear the strangled breaths coming out of her. Small coughs as her head lulled.
Cassian led her to his room—their room—and set her on the blankets. Surprising gentle for looking panicked and terrified.
She helped him tug off her jacket, her gloves. She wasn't wearing much underneath and Feyre wondered if Nesta had felt this way the whole day and no one had noticed. By the cauldron, this was not the first time they had seen her today.
Feyre crawled to the spot next to her on the bed and swiped her wet bangs away from her face. Elain rushed in with a tub and a towel, handing the latter to Feyre. She dabbed at her face, placed her hand where the cloth had been. She was burning up.
"Oh, Nesta…" Feyre whispered, her sister breathing quietly. The worry balling into a tight fist she couldn't release. "Why didn't you tell us?"
Feyre remembered the quiet, the fierce anger, the arguments, the disastrous camps and the consequences, the words she just didn't hear in Nesta's silent screams.
She couldn't help but wonder if maybe Nesta had told her, and just like all the times before, Feyre just didn't listen.
Madja told them it was just a bad case of fairy flu. She'd come back tomorrow to make sure it wasn't getting any worse. She gave him a blue bottle, told him to wake Nesta every few hours and give it to her. She'd need to finish the whole bottle today if it wasn't going to get any worse.
Cassian clenched the bottle at her words, the worry building in his chest like the crescendo of a Solstice carol. Every minute her eyes were closed, and the coughs wracked her body, made his own physically ache.
Half the day had passed, when she finally opened her eyes, just slits, like cracks on broken windows. Cassian rushed towards her and held up her head, bringing the blue bottle to her lips. When Nesta swallowed the worry ebbed only slightly. She coughed as he caressed her cheek.
"Hey, Nes." He whispered lovingly. "You had us all worried there. We had to call Madja in, she just said to give you this."
He set the bottle on the counter next to him, never taking his eyes off of her, as she stared at him blinking slowly. She'd need to sleep the sickness off, miss most of Solstice probably. The thought made a fist clamp around his heart and squeeze.
Nesta only nodded, her eyes drooping as she laid her head on the arm he rested on her pillow. He swiped the hair away from her face, matted from sweat. Her skin still feverish.
When he was sure she was sleep, Cassian looked around the room, empty and bare. He wished it had been different, wished for a million different things at once. He hated that it was going to be another year Nesta tallied in her mind—another wish that didn't come true.
He took another look at her and the blank room and decided. He'd make this room their Solstice.
Cassian, after tucking Nesta into the thick woven blankets, set out. For lights and flowers and pine. She'd have this tradition, at least.
He would never leave her.
The lights looked like sprites that danced with the flames of the fireplace, the crackling lulling into the soft laughter that he could hear outside the door. It meant little to him, as Nesta slept soundly atop his chest.
Her hair felt soft as his fingers ran through it. He'd have to wake her soon, even if he dreaded the thought, when she looked as peaceful as she did.
Nesta had woken up once before and had promptly held him close to her. She hadn't said a word, but he knew that look. He gulped, his throat dry and scratchy. She would never say it, but he felt it like a sword to his chest.
He held her closer, drawing little patterns on her back. "I love you, you know."
She had smiled up at him, eyes drifting as soon as she had found the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. She hadn't woken since. The sky having turned to soft oranges and violets, when he decided to pull the curtains back.
A soft knock on the door, made him raise his head slightly.
"Come in."
The knob turned slowly. Feyre and Elain appeared carrying a plate of food and cookies.
"We figured you could use some food, while you wait for Nesta to wake up." He gestured for them to enter, and they all but bounced in, happy to check on their sister.
The bed as it seemed, was large enough for all four of them… well as Feyre and Elain kneeled around Nesta.
"She looks sweet when she's sleeping." Feyre said, awe in her voice. Elain giggled, at that.
Their sister was a ferocity they could never control. A fireball of short-temperedness; Cassian was just relieved it was now mostly reserved for enemies. Her alliances deeply rooted in her family and their reciprocated love.
Nesta shifted slightly, and Cassian moved to accommodate her. Her eyes blinking drowsily. Her nose was still red, but her cheeks were now a blush rather than the red of the candy they had hung on the tree.
Feyre and Elain leaned to see her, Nesta craning her neck to see them.
"You're awake!" Elain exclaimed.
Cassian helped Nesta sit up along the headboard. Cassian moved off the bed, Feyre taking his place on Nesta's right.
Under different circumstances, he thought Nesta would have loved this. Being surrounded by them and their comforting hugs—even if Nesta pretended otherwise, she always wanted them near her, but never wanted to ask for it.
They fussed over her and Nesta stared back with disdain, wrinkling her nose at their concern. But her eyes were bright and he was happy to know many of Nesta's looks, though some—like now—hit him with such surprise.
He went to the nightstand and grasped the blue bottle. Feyre took it out of his hands, and he knew that look, too. Go away. He only smirked at it, and looked at Nesta, leaning her head on her sister's soldier. He rubbed his thumb on the soft skin of her hand, his fond smile saying more than his words ever could.
"I'm going to get you more tea. Some soup too, if you can stomach it." She nodded her head lightly, grasping his hand and squeezing it in hers. Her grip was strong, and that's what made the worry finally ebb into a dull throb. She was strong, alive, and fighting. Fighting with them, against enemies like fairy flu, or the ominous ones they could never be rid of forever.
They'd win because of her, because of them, together. Their love a sweet protection against any foe—even ones like doubt.
Nesta noticed the tree first, its reds and greens playing with Elain's hair and Feyre's eyes. So close to her that she could feel their bodies, warmer than the fire winking in the dim light. The silver presents nestled at the base.
"You know, Cassian decorated this whole place while you were asleep." Feyre quipped. Elain jumping in to follow.
"You should have seen him, he practically stole everything from the living room. Azriel and Mor kept making fun of him, for the festive monster he turned into."
They leaned their head on hers, their arms wrapping around her. She thanked the cauldron she was already flushed. "He turned into quite an irate bat at the sight of you sick, mothered you like a hen, too."
"Though, maybe we all did that." Feyre said, amused, playing with a lock of Nesta's hair. Nesta turned towards her voice, as Feyre turned her body to face her. "Next time, Nesta, we'll have a snowball fight when you're not sick."
Nesta still had the attitude to roll her eyes. "If others couldn't win when I was half-dead in the snow, they'll have no luck when I'm better."
Feyre laughed at that. "No, I'm sure they won't."
The conversation lulled. Feyre resuming her position at Nesta's side, adjusting the blanket so that she was covered. Nesta had never in her life been so coddled, but she found herself too weak to argue.
Nesta looked at the tree again, the presents simultaneously mocking her and cheering her on. She didn't know if it was the idea or the sickness that made her want to puke.
"You can open them if you want—the silver ones… They're for you and Elain." She gestured towards them, wringing her hands in her lap. "For Rhysand, Azriel, and Mor, too. And of course, one for Amren, though I guess she's probably with Varian right now."
There was even some for the twins, though she suspected they knew that already. She watched as Feyre and Elain looked towards each other, softly. Nesta wanted to sink back into the pillows and hide herself away in the mattress.
There was one for Cassian of course, but she'd give that to him later. When she could do it properly, and she could get emotional without feeling like she wanted to jump out of her skin.
Elain tugged at her hand, tugged her back into the room and out of her head. "I'll wait if you don't mind… So, we can open the presents together."
"Me too. Then you can open the presents we got you—we all got you." Feyre smiled at her, assuredly, and Nesta's heart tightened.
"You didn't have to get me anything." Her voice low, as if admitting it would somehow make it less true. Feyre simply squeezed her hand once more.
"Yes, we did." She was family, after all. They cared for her, too. Loved her even though sometimes she wondered why.
It was a testament to how sick Nesta felt, because she blinked back tears, her ears ringing as the day spun out of her control. "I just wanted everything to be perfect." Whispered words of truth ringing in their ears like the carols she could hear outside.
Her sisters cradled her closer, the concern back on their faces. "It is perfect."
"You know, It's not the same without you out there." Feyre pointed to the door. "Rhys and Mor won't stop belting out carols, and you know how bad they both are at singing." Nesta laughed at that, as a stray tear made it down her face. She did know.
She closed her eyes at the soft voices, the noise muffled by the door. Nesta felt the spoon touch her lips, as if she were some small sick child. It slid down her throat like honey.
Nesta was almost asleep when she heard her sister again. A quiet lullaby to her roaring thoughts and beyond, where sleep rocked her gently.
"It's perfect because you're here."
"How's Nesta doing?" Azriel asked, as Cassian made his way to the kitchen. The wet rag and mug cradled in his hands.
"She's a little upset." An understatement. Nesta had been mostly sleeping, and when she did wake, she was quiet. Thank the mother, her sisters had come in when they did. Her face lighting up at the comfort they brought her.
Mor walked up to both of them, Rhysand short behind. The only one missing was Amren, though probably not for long. Varian had only planned to stay, this year, until tomorrow.
Mor took the mug from him, setting it on the counter as she filled the kettle with water.
"She was looking forward to it this year, wasn't she?"
Cassian grabbed the pot of the table, filling it with the soup he had made yesterday, when they had all explained they had wanted something warm to eat.
"You don't know the half of it." He answered, stirring the soup as the kettle sputtered. He supposed she probably didn't want him to tell the others, though he wanted them to understand, too. It wasn't just supposed to be another Solstice. He swallowed as he continued.
"Nesta spent the last three weeks hounding me to fly her places or to ask you guys what you liked or wanted. I told her a million different stories about you all, until she felt she had enough information. She said she wanted to get the perfect presents… ones that she'd hoped meant something."
The townhouse was quiet as he spoke. He took great care not to look at them, not to give himself away at the strings in his chest that continued to knot and unravel and knot again. "Nesta said she'd have to try harder this year—to make up for all those other years. That this time she'd get it right."
Cassian took the pot of the stove, poured the soup into a bowl and hoped that Nesta would eat something. She hadn't all day.
When he looked back up, they were staring at him. Concern and something else written on their faces, something like contemplation and a little like love. He got angry all over again, that she couldn't see what she did to all of them. How much they cared.
"It makes me upset, too, that Nesta can't catch a break. She worked so hard—to be here, to get to this point. It isn't ever enough."
He grabbed the bowl, and the tea Mor had poured, set it on a tray, while Azriel placed the newly wet wash cloth on the wood. Next year, he'd spend every last minute making it the best Solstice of her life.
Cassian walked towards the room, the door shut tight but the occupants loving and warm.
"Oh, I almost forgot—" He gestured toward the bigger tree in the living room. "Nesta placed your presents under the tree. Silver paper. She said you guys could open them if you wanted."
Mor walked toward it, grabbing one and looking at it softly. She looked at him, before he even had the chance to open the door, like she still didn't believe that Nesta had done this. That she had cared so much for them.
Cassian could only lift the side of his mouth in answer. Perhaps, they had finally seen what he did. Nesta's heart was just sometimes too expressive for the words she couldn't say.
Two days passed before Nesta was well enough to get out of bed. Solstice had swiftly past them all by, her sister's birthday spent without her… again.
She changed out of her nightgown and into a new dress. Her hair shown lighter, the bath ridding her of the last of her sickness. She looked around the room, the decorations still ringing with joy.
Nesta supposed they should take the lights down now, and though it hurt, it only hurt a little.
Cassian had stayed with her. They played board games when she wasn't sleeping, and when she was, she was nestled in his arms, his body warming her comfortably to the chills that sometimes wracked her body. Of course, her sisters came in frequently, too. They laughed with her and kept her updated and included her even if she couldn't be out there with them.
They had made her feel so light, she was grateful that it had turned out pleasant. Well enough to last her until next year, where it probably wouldn't go as planned, but maybe didn't include her coughing up her lungs.
Nesta slipped out of the room before she could think anything more of it. It'd be better next year, she promised.
Feyre rushed towards her, grabbing her arm. Elain wasn't too far behind. They came at her like a whirlwind and Nesta had to brace herself for the way they looked: too spirited and definitely out of breath.
"Okay… Close your eyes." They blocked her path to the living room, and she looked at them curiously. Nesta shook her head.
"Why?"
Feyre spoke next. "Please. Just do it." She gave them on of her patented Nesta looks. "I promise you'll love it."
Nesta assented, her eyes drifting shut, as Elain held one arm, and Feyre grabbed the other. She could hear rustling in front of them. They didn't lead her far, just a few feet, where she could feel the carpet in the living room.
The air tasted like cinnamon, the air warm against her palms. "Now open."
The living room was still decorated, reds and greens and greenery. It wasn't that that surprised her, it was Cassian who stood near the dinner table, and gestured for her to follow. They were all seated around the table, and Cassian moved to open the chair for her. She looked around, and Amren was here today, even Nuala and Cerridwen sitting beside them all. She didn't think they ate this kind of food, but she was glad that they were there.
The table was filled to the edge. Turkey, ham, four different kinds of potatoes, and pie. Chocolate Mousse pie that sat in front of her chair—her favorite. She looked at all the food, suddenly starving, wanting nothing more than to dig in. Her gaze settled on all of them, noticed that they were watching her as she sat down.
She wrung her fingers at their looks, the light in their eyes friendlier than she had ever seen them. Cassian clasped his hands on her shoulder. "We couldn't have a Solstice feast without you… They wouldn't even let me eat any of the pie."
Nesta couldn't believe that was true. Cassian wouldn't dare eat her favorite dessert without her. He winked like he knew what she was thinking.
Mor titled her head at them, at her, and she hoped she wasn't going to ask anything she couldn't answer in front of them. She imagined her asking an array of questions, from why did you try so hard to why do you look so surprised. Nesta couldn't answer any of them, the words not even slightly what she'd want to say.
She raised a hand to the pie. "We had to make a new one, since someone…" She gestured toward Amren, who held her hands up in innocence, "decided to knock into the table this morning. Thank Mother that Nuala and Cerridwen still had the ingredients."
Feyre came and sat to her left, Rhysand sneaking glances at her from Feyre's other side. Nesta didn't know if she wanted to gush or grimace. Her sister was never shy of being affectionate. It was a part of her she loved.
"Can we eat? Or are we all going to sit here in silence?" Mor rolled her eyes at Amren's outburst, and Azriel merely took a knife from the center and started cutting the meat. Cassian sat next to her and she leaned her head on his shoulder.
"When were finished, we'll open presents." He said, his smile wide and gracious as he looked at her wide eyes. "I have one for you… but I'm saving it for later—when were alone."
He kissed the side of her head, her eyes stinging as she grabbed his hand on the table and squeezed. Hoped beyond all reason that this wasn't something new, that she turned into a blubbering idiot every moment that she spent with these people. Her people. Her family.
"You didn't open them?" She asked Cassian, asked all of them.
Rhysand spoke first, scooping mashed potatoes onto Feyre's plate. "None." He looked towards her questioning gaze, and merely shrugged a shoulder. "Solstice will be there every year, but the people around us…we have to appreciate them while they're here."
He rolled his eyes and pointed the spoon towards Cassian. "Because some people, as you know, try so hard not to be here." Cassian merely lifted his glass, his eyes sparkling.
Nesta laughed with the rest of them, as Cassian piled food on to her plate. She ate with reverence, as they joked with her, told her stories. And, when they were finished, Rhysand and Mor once again sang carols—badly.
The presents stayed under the tree, blinking up at them with silver eyes, waiting and watching. They took their sweet time, enjoying the setting sun and the flickering lights of color.
Nesta didn't think about the presents at all. Solstice wasn't about the presents.
She sang with Mor and Rhysand, laughed with Feyre and Elain, danced with Cassian, as the snow fell outside.
The warmth of the fireplace seeped through her sweater, Cassian's arms woven around her from behind. Feyre and Elain kissed her cheek under the mistletoe. The room glowing in effervescent color.
It was perfect. All of it.